


Izumi Alone

by pierpressure



Series: It Runs In The Family!Verse [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, F/M, Family Fluff, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, KATARA DOES HAVE A STATUE, Momtara and Dadko, Non-Explicit Sex, Steambabies - Freeform, Teenage Rebellion, nothing too graphic because i'm a pussy, people have potty mouths, republic city shenanigans, say no to organized crime, screw legend of korra that's a later problem, steambaby centric, way more canoodling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:34:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27400528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pierpressure/pseuds/pierpressure
Summary: Sequel to It Runs In The Family (because i have no self control)Crumbling under the pressure and expectations of the Fire Nation and her parents, Crown Princess Izumi flees to Republic City. While in hiding from her parents, she discovers a dark criminal underworld consuming the city from within. As usual, Izumi finds herself unintentionally entangled in the conflict, unable to walk away from a fight. But alone, with no backup, will she be able to win?
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: It Runs In The Family!Verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2001733
Comments: 29
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello i am back with the promised sequel (i know i'm late but outlining a full length story proved to be harder than i thought)
> 
> this should hopefully be done soon to let me work on my other wips (hopefully), and it doesn't help that i write almost as much meta as actual content. the whole concept of running away to republic city is totally legend of korra, but it diverges pretty quickly. 
> 
> anyways enjoy this dumpster fire it's kind of my baby now! i love my steambaby izumi's storyline but i'm still a sucker for zutara family fluff so there will be flashbacks galore.

Izumi couldn’t breathe.

As she raced down the cavernous tunnels that intricately wove through the underground of Caldera City, she felt like she was suffocating. From the running without stopping no matter how loudly her lungs protested and ached and because of what she had just done. She wouldn’t-couldn’t stop, not if she wanted to get out. Kya had looked so fragile and tiny in her bed next to her earlier that night and it had made it so much harder to leave. Knowing that she’d wake up to a cold, empty bed instead of finding the sister that had been there for her whole life.

It killed Izumi to write the note, she didn’t feel in control of her fingers as the characters appeared on the page. The stark black of the ink seemed to jump off of the page as it bled onto the parchment.

_I can’t do it anymore. I’m sorry. Please don’t look for me. -Izumi_

How does a person tell their family that they’re running away because they can’t take the insurmountable pressure to lead a nation that has controlled their entire life? Izumi didn’t know, so she’d kept the note short and sweet. She tried not to imagine their faces when they read it, but the guilt washed over her anyways, flooding out through her eyes in the form of tears. 

Choking back a hot sob, Izumi tried to breathe. This was the only way. She’d tried to please everyone and be what they wanted for so long, but she just couldn’t keep living the lie anymore. One more day of being the “perfect daughter” would have been her undoing. She’d spent her whole life sacrificing pieces of herself for the benefit of others, and now there was nothing left. She was a shell of a person, a ghost of the vibrant little girl that had been strangled by her nation and parents and expectations. Izumi tried not to think of what would happen to Iroh and Kya. They’d have Katara and Zuko, they would be okay without her. Izumi didn’t believe the lies she was telling herself but knew that if she stopped, she’d turn around and go back to slowly dying.

The flickering fire in her palm illuminated her path, sending dancing shadows across the cold stone walls. They taunted Izumi, daring to be so jovial and free when she was in the midst of a breakdown on the worst night of her life. Coming to the end of the winding tunnel, Izumi pushed open the trapdoor on the roof and pulled herself through it. The fresh scent of a nighttime breeze immediately assaulted her senses, better than all of the times before. She sunk to the ground, _feeling_ the grass beneath her palms for the first time since she could remember. There was no one to watch her or judge her except herself. Izumi was a horrible person who had abandoned her family, but she was free. She could finally breathe without the suffocating weight of the world sitting on top of her chest.

Izumi brushed the tears from her eyes and inhaled the crisp summer air deeply. “There’s no going back; you’ve made your choice,” she told herself.

Standing up, the former Crown Princess oriented herself to her surroundings through blurred vision. The sun would rise soon and if she wasn’t out of the Fire Nation before that happened, she’d never leave. Izumi cleared her mind and focused on her singular task: finding a cargo ship and stowing away. 

Izumi had left the palace without even an inkling of a plan but had thought hard on the fly while navigating the subterranean city tunnels. Traditional forms of travel were off-limits because they’d leave paper trails that her parents could use to track her, leaving only illegal forms of transportation. As she maneuvered through the narrow and sharp city streets, dodging bystanders returning home from long nights at taverns, she did a mental checklist of preparations. 

She’d likely be stowed away on the ship for up to a week and had stolen enough food to last as long as she rationed it. Rain would take care of the problem of water, allowing her to fill up her mother’s waterskins she had swiped. Her Water Tribe rucksack was full of blue, Water Tribe clothes that would cast suspicion away from her when word got out the Fire Nation Princess was missing. She’d change into them on the ship, as they’d raise too much suspicion in Caldera. The people of Caldera would have a vague idea of what she looked like, so she'd have to leave altogether. Anywhere else, no one would have a clue. No photos of Izumi had been released in almost 16 years, so she'd be able to blend in once she got out of the Fire Nation. The small knife inscribed with the words “Never give up without a fight” and “Made in Earth Kingdom” hung at her waist, and she was ready to draw it in a second. She wasn’t naive enough to think that stupid men wouldn’t try things.

Approaching the docks, Izumi felt the familiar grip of panic over her throat. As she stood in front of the departing vessels, she faced the question she’d been avoiding since packing her things that night. _Where to go?_

She had to choose wisely as this would probably be her only shot to get this right. The ships would be departing at daybreak and people would start to staff them soon. People who could notice or recognize Izumi without the cover of darkness. 

She _had_ to leave the Fire Nation, the whole point of this entire endeavor was to get out. The South Pole was off-limits, it was too small to avoid detection by Uncle Sokka or Grandpa Hakoda, who would surely turn her over to her parents if he found her. The North Pole was a better option, but her parents were closely diplomatically tied to the Chief, who would aid them in any searches. There also weren’t a lot of (or any) firebenders in the North Pole, and getting caught would be easy to do and disastrous. Plus, it’d be pretty obvious for Izumi to flee to the Water Tribes from the Fire Nation. 

The empty Air Temples were an option, but Uncle Aang passed through them regularly enough that she wouldn’t be able to hide. The Earth Kingdom was big, and the large population would make it easier to hide. The smaller towns were remote but tight-knit enough that an outsider would draw attention and trouble. Omashu was still mostly earthbenders, and she’d stick out as Water Tribe and Fire Nation there. Ba Sing Se had a more diverse population of former refugees, but it was a long way away. The Lower Ring would be great to hide in with all of the chaos and densely crammed population. However, the journey and paperwork to immigrate would be problematic, as the city was famous for its bloated bureaucracy. 

That left only Republic City, whose existence and development her parents had played an integral role in. _Fan-fucking-tastic._ She couldn’t escape her family wherever she went, they were major world leaders and war heroes who the world revolved around. Still, it was big enough that she could hide in plain sight and blend in, but outside of her parent’s political jurisdiction. There was lots of cultural mixing, so Izumi’s appearance and bending wouldn’t seem out of the ordinary. 

It was built up and industrialized, but still wild enough that she could probably hide for a long time, assuming she could avoid Aunt Toph and Uncle Aang. Uncle Aang was busy with the air acolytes and his children, and besides, he’d probably be at Air Temple Island more than the actual city itself. Aunt Toph could be avoided as long as she stayed out of trouble that would get her involved with the Chief of Police, and the blindness didn’t exactly _hurt_ Izumi’s predicament. Uncle Sokka and Aunt Suki split their time between the South Pole, Kyoshi Island, and Republic City, but were always extremely busy with official business when in the city. Too busy to participate in a manhunt for their niece.

That settled it. She climbed the gangplank of the ship headed towards Republic City and searched for the cargo hold. The ship’s name was the Blue Spirit, an irony that wasn’t lost on Izumi. Yet another way for the universe to remind her of what she was leaving behind. After some searching, she found the deserted room packed to the brim with strange-looking claw-like machinery and manufactured items in crates stamped with a strange red wave logo, not out of the ordinary due to the factory capabilities of the Fire Nation and its importance in the global economy. Rubbing her temples, Izumi attempted to stop quoting her school curriculum textbooks from memory. She didn’t have to know all of that bullshit anymore, and she certainly wasn’t feeling any anxiety over the upcoming literature test she would be missing in school. Agni, the whole point of getting out was to _let go_ , and she needed to put her past behind her.

In the polished metal interior of the ship, Izumi gazed at the reflection staring back at her. She didn’t recognize herself, not with the eye bags and tears and sharp angles of her face that she hadn’t noticed before. Her many nights sneaking out and losing sleep in favor of partying had not been without consequences. The golden eyes that shone in the hull seemed to age her far more than her 16 years. 

Izumi couldn’t quite pinpoint when she’d aged so much, but the realization hit her suddenly. She was 16 years old, the age that her father had been when he’d become the Fire Lord. Sobbing in the cargo hold of a shipping vessel, she couldn’t imagine what that would be like and how he’d done it. She could barely handle the responsibilities of being his heir, but leading a war-torn country through reconstruction before finishing puberty? Izumi couldn’t imagine. And yet, he'd managed to not bail like she was doing. But she wasn't like her father. Izumi wasn't cut out for this. 

She knew she’d been heavily sheltered for the majority of her life, at least from most real-life problems. Hers had been far more high-stakes and political than the average teenagers’ worries about bad skin and breakouts. She was about to find out what the real world was like and would have to learn fast. Izumi had a feeling that her previous glimpses of normalcy, such as earlier that night, weren’t going to cut it.

***

They’d been waltzing along to a slow song in the courtyard illuminated by the soft glow of flickering candles, the wash of crimson lights from the lanterns painting everything rosy. Izumi could practically feel the ambiance, the romanticism in the charged air as Kanta slid his hand onto her bare back while they swayed. He lifted his head from the crook of her shoulder to meet her golden eyes with his brown ones, unable to hide the absolute adoration that shone through them. 

Izumi felt a pang of guilt at the irrefutable proof before her that he’d fallen in love, knowing she wasn’t. Luckily, he was only in love with her and didn’t actually love her. She doubted he would know the difference, but she could tell as clear as day. How could he love someone he didn’t even know? If anything, he was in love with Natsumi, the girl that would meet him in the streets at night and go home with him but never take him home. The fake name was close enough to hers that she could go by Zumi, what most people called her, but not draw any suspicion of connections to the royal family. As far as Kanta knew, he couldn’t go home with Natsumi because she had too many roommates, a lie he readily believed. She loved and pitied Kanta for being so trusting. He knew nothing about Izumi, not even her name, and still was head over heels for her. 

She’d been so unsure of what they were doing at first when he’d walked up to her asking to dance and their relationship had bloomed. She had a hard time deciphering what his actions meant, and was completely unfamiliar with the lovey-dovey way they acted. Her only experience with this stuff was from the horror of having to scram or tune it out when her parents did it. But he’d been so confident and sure, so she’d eventually learned to stop doubting. 

He slipped his other hand into her loose hair, twirling his fingers through the silky locks that ran down to her hips. “Zumi, how did I get so lucky? You’re so out of my league,” Kanta whispered softly. He had no idea just how true the statement was; that he had his future Fire Lord in his arms. Izumi simply gave a strained smile and followed his fluid steps and movements with her own. 

She gently brushed the short, shaggy black hair out of his sun-tanned face and caressed his cheek. In this part of Caldera, Izumi’s dark skin was ubiquitous, a far cry from sticking out amongst the nobility. She found she rather liked it and that being able to blend into a crowd simply by changing her clothes was a wonderful revelation. She was a nobody, as photos or paintings of her hadn’t been released by her parents to the public since she was a baby. Apart from her parents or people she knew, Izumi could pass through unnoticed.

“I don’t think reminding me is in your best interest, Kanta,” Izumi teased in a low voice. He smirked at her response as the song ended and other couples started rearranging themselves for the fast-paced jig that would play next. Kanta swept her to the side and leaned in.

“And what would be in my best interest? In your opinion, that is?”

Izumi smiled at him, his face resting only inches above her own and hands caressing the sides of her face. “I’d say kissing me,” she suggested. He pulled her in and pressed his lips to hers. His mouth was warm and tasted faintly of ginger tea as he slipped his tongue into hers. The kiss progressed from tender and sweet to wanting and passionate in a matter of seconds, his hands coming to roam her body, settling on her hips and back. 

Izumi pulled away, breathing hard and aware of all the eyes around them. They couldn’t exactly continue their activities out in the open like this. At least without a public indecency charge, which would be _so hard_ to explain to her parents.”Uh, I think we need to, um, move this somewhere else,” Izumi stuttered out, very distracted by his still-roaming hands. She grabbed said hands slowly and raced towards the abandoned alley a block away. Was it a classy thing to do? No. Did Izumi care? Also no. 

Entering the dimly lit alley, Kanta immediately hiked her up against the wall and she wrapped her legs around him. They resumed the kiss even more desperately than before (if the poking sensation against her thigh was any indication). Gasping away from Kanta, Izumi untangled her hands from his hair and shimmied her panties down to her knees. As Kanta kissed her neck, he slid his hand underneath her skirt, eliciting a loud moan from her. They were hormonal teenagers doing something they weren’t supposed to in an alley, and time seemed to slow around Izumi. She lost herself in the mindless, stupid pleasure of how good it felt to break the rules. 

“Oh, Agni, fuck, yes,” she chanted, throwing caution and volume control to the wind. 

So, of course, obviously, this was the moment the masked figure showed up at the entrance to the alleyway, seemingly appearing out of thin air. The shadows of the alleyway enveloped them, and Izumi couldn’t make anything out other than a silhouette, who was now approaching with silent steps. “Oh, shit, someone’s here,” she warned Kanta, who pulled away abruptly.

The figure wasn’t stopping and was now in range. A low gasp escaped from them. “ _Izumi_?!?!”

Oh fuck. A small flame in the figure’s palm revealed the mask to be a Blue Spirit mask. Agni fucking had to be kidding her. Her father reached for the mask, tugging it off to reveal his face. 

“Dad?!!?!” Izumi whispered, shocked that the Father Lord was here. 

“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded, fury on his face. His eyes scanned over her halter top, short skirt, earrings that were colloquially known as “hooker hoops”, and the panties around her knees, where they lingered.

She hastily pulled her panties back on and wiped saliva from her swollen lips. Oh Agni, her father had just caught her getting fingerfucked in an alley! Why did the spirits hate her? Time to go on the offensive, as there was no way she was getting out of this unscathed. “I could say the same for you! Does Mom know you’re prancing around like a vigilante at night _again_?” Izumi countered.

“I think she’s going to be more concerned with you sneaking out for f-those activities! How did you even get out here? Do you know what you’re risking by being here? And who is he?” he questioned, pointing at Kanta. His volume increased as he barraged Izumi until he was practically shouting.

“Oh, cut the crap-” Izumi started, only to be cut off by a shell shocked Kanta.

“Y-you’re the Fire Lord. Fire Lord Zuko. Your name isn’t Natsumi. That means you’re the Crown Princess,” he stuttered, gesturing at Izumi with unbridled horror in his eyes, “The Fire Lord just caught me with his daughter. Oh, Agni.” 

Izumi reached out for his hand, but he pulled away. “Kanta, wait!” she called, but he turned and sprinted away. As Izumi ran to follow him, the Father Lord grabbed her arm. 

“No. You’ve caused enough trouble for tonight, young lady. I can’t believe you. You’re coming home with me,” the Father Lord said, pulling her away from the alley.

“You can’t make me! Why do you have to ruin everything?” Izumi cried.

“Yes, I can,” the Father Lord shot back with a harsh look, “We’re going back to the palace to have a long talk about what the fuck I just caught you doing. And then neither of us is going to tell Mom about this. Understand?” His tone was harsh and unforgiving, his grip bruising. Izumi struggled against it, breaking free. Spinning around, he caught her by her long hair, grabbing it in a fist and not letting go. Grimacing from the pain, she realized she was out of options and there was nowhere to go. Izumi was trapped. 

She turned to face him, looking him right in his golden eyes alight with anger. The eye marred by his burn scar was just as fierce as his intact one, practically glowering with anger. “Fine.”

***

Looking back, Izumi couldn’t decide whether the loaded silence on the walk home, the shock on the royal guards' faces, or the screaming match had been worse. 

It felt like years ago, not earlier that night. The sun started to rise, casting the cargo hold in a warm orange glow through the porthole on her left. She inhaled deeply, attempting to stop the shaking sobs that wracked her bodies in response to the memories. She needed to look forward to the future and surviving on her own. To hiding in plain sight after her parents started looking for her. 

She would have to be just like everyone else for once in her life, and a quiet hope filled her at the thought. Something that few commoners would have? Her hair. The long silky black locks fell all the way down her back and hips. Considered a regal style fit for a princess, Izumi couldn’t even take care of it on her own. It tangled so easily that maids or her mother had to style and comb through it every day, practically tearing her scalp off in the process. Once a beloved symbol of childish beauty, Izumi’s hair had come to be something she resented. She hadn't even allowed to cut it to her own accord, only based on council regulations.

She hadn’t had a real haircut since she was 11-years-old-when they'd passed those stupid rules. This was long overdue. Despite being unwanted, Izumi had to admit the long locks had helped her to blend in among the nobility and escape some stares. She’d been able to use it as a shield, to hide behind the thick curtain of black silk. But at what cost? For years, Izumi’s hair had simultaneously shielded and suffocated her, just like her parents. She got choked up over the thought of parting with it. 

However, she didn’t have a choice. The hair would make her easier to find and needed to go. People could grab onto it like that Father Lord had done earlier that night and trap her again. This was long overdue, as Izumi saw it. Grabbing fistfuls, she unsheathed the “Never give up without a fight” knife and began to saw. She was well aware of the irony of her running away from her problems using that knife. But she’d never been able to turn her back on a fight before, and it had almost consumed her. Parents could be wrong, perhaps the knife was as well. The hair remaining curled around her chin, brushing her face with the uneven ends. The ragged black strands of hair fell to the ground, lifeless, alongside her tears. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me adding a ton of irony and parallels in zuko and izumi's story because let's face it, angst is hereditary


	2. Chapter 2

Izumi felt the morning sunrise as Republic City appeared on the horizon in the far distance, bathed in warm orange light through her view from the porthole. She would be there soon, and hastily changed into a lightweight short sleeve blue dress embroidered with white thread and navy blue leggings. Switching her lightweight shoes out for boots and securing beads into two hair loopies with twin braids, Izumi examined her reflection in the smooth steel of the ship. She looked completely Water Tribe with the new clothes, save for the intense golden eyes. As long as no one looked too closely, she would blend in perfectly. If word got out about a missing Fire Nation princess, she certainly wouldn't look the part.

Sneaking out of the cargo hold, Izumi maneuvered her way around the paths of working sailors, careful to move through the ship undetected. She couldn't afford to leave behind witnesses or a trail her parents could follow and find her. Izumi jumped and silently landed on the dock, bounding towards dry land before anyone could stop her. Dropping a raggedy fistful of shorn black hair into the harbor, she sprinted towards the more populated areas of the city. Some confused dock workers started to call out, but she was in the city streets before they knew what hit them. 

Izumi was surrounded by people who shuffled, changed, hustled, moved, and pulled her in every which way. The heavy traffic of people was overwhelming with different sights, smells, and sounds all intermingling in a cacophony of chaos. Izumi spun her head around in every direction, unable to focus on a single surrounding when it was shifting and moving so rapidly. The gleaming metal structures of the city dotted with more traditional housing structures all blended together to create a modern fusion style Izumi had never encountered anywhere else. The elegant and calculated power of the Fire Nation was long gone, replaced by a playful pandemonium Izumi could appreciate after living (and sharing a bathroom) with Iroh for almost 11 years. 

Bathed in the soft glow of the morning light, it became obvious that Republic City had changed a lot since she’d been here last. Still, there was a familiarity that wrapped around her like one of Aunt Toph or Uncle Aang's hugs when they visited Air Temple Island. Fighting her way out of a crowd, she wandered through the streets aimlessly, disoriented by the city streets and people. She’d never been here alone without her parents to guide her, or in the more rough backstreets that she currently inhabited. 

Izumi felt the stares of people surrounding her that raised the hair on the back of her neck. She surreptitiously tugged her rucksack from over her shoulder to clutch it tightly to her chest. Despite her best efforts, she was noticing a pattern of how the denizens of the city dressed that she was not in compliance with.

" _Oh, fucking fried shitballs disguised as takoyaki,"_ she muttered.

Putting aside the fact that Kya would love that curse, this was just great. She managed to stick out while wearing a disguise designed to help her blend in. Just Izumi’s luck. It was pretty clear to everyone around her that she was fresh off the boat, which was not helping her “hiding in plain sight” plan. 

Her stomach grumbled loudly over the background chatter of the city and Izumi let out a sigh. She'd grossly miscalculated the amount of food she needed for her journey, having not taken into account the turtlecrabs that had made their way into her sack. The all-consuming hunger she now felt was certainly in direct correlation. Rusting through her bag, she enclosed her fist around the polished gold and ruby surface of the fire lily hairpin she’d been searching for. The metal was icy to the touch, but the craftsmanship was delicate and fine, something any jeweler or pawn shop worth her time would be able to tell. She’d have to make her way to the shadier parts of Republic City to pawn it without getting into trouble for it being assumed as stolen. No normal person would own a piece like this, let alone try to get rid of it.

Clutching it tightly, she knew it was almost too fine to sell and Izumi doubted she could get anywhere near what it was actually worth. But she didn’t need that much anyway, just enough to pay for a place to stay until she got a job. She didn’t want to part with the fifth birthday gift from Grandpa Iroh, but stealing from the royal treasury was treason, where she drew a hard line. She doubted anyone would buy the centuries-old hairpiece she normally wore. Plus, stealing from her people was all her forefathers had done and Izumi was adamant about not following in their footsteps. 

Wandering aimlessly, Izumi had lost all sense of direction and found herself in the middle of a busy road. Leaping out of the way of a carriage and it’s accompanying ostrich horses, she stumbled and fell.

“Oh, fuck." 

Some bystanders gave her a pointed look and covered the ears of their children. Apparently, that wasn't an acceptable word to yell in public, even here. Still, she didn't get threats to wash her mouth out with soap, so it wasn't as forbidden as back home.

Cursing and brushing the dirt off of her dress, her vision focused on the bustling clearing ahead of her. _Oh Agni, no._ The spirits had to be kidding with this one. She stood at the city’s central transit station, staring at the towering fountain in its center that people leaned in to drink out of and gathered around. The gurgling stream of water grew louder as Izumi approached it with wide eyes. The water flowed from the statue erected in the center of the fountain, specifically her mother’s waterskin. The statue of her parents standing side-by-side loomed over Izumi as she stood in its shadow with tears forming in her eyes. She gazed upon her father’s outstretched hand wielding a glowing flame while his other wrapped around Mom’s waist. Mom’s gracefully posed wrist bending the water into the fountain while leaning into the Father Lord’s side. They wore Fire Nation armor and Water Tribe furs as they embraced each other with regal and reserved smiles, a living symbol of nations cooperating. In a way, Izumi was a living version of this statue. At least in principle.

Izumi noticed the fine details that most people wouldn’t see, but she was privy to, having grown up with the real-life subjects of this statue. It reminded her of a larger version of Mom's statue outside of Iroh’s dojo in the South Pole but made of metal instead of ice. The statue depicted her parents before Izumi had been born, obvious in the beads and loopies adorning Mom’s shorter loose hair as well as the Father Lord’s short top knot with the silly-looking bangs. Their youth shone through the unmoving metal, present in the relaxed muscles of their faces and alert posture that was mostly gone after three children and years on the throne. It was a well-made statue created with beautiful welding depicting a love like no other, but Izumi gazed up at it with unbridled horror.

The last time she’d seen this statue haunted her, seemingly mourning the little girl that she had been back then. The child who would never abandon her family and hadn't had the life drained from her.

***

They’d leisurely strolled into the packed square, the Father Lord guiding Mom with hands over her eyes as Iroh and Izumi skipped ahead. Izumi’s green pants were now mostly brown with a large hole in the right leg because of her and Iroh’s city-wide game of tag. Their little brood was dressed in casual, incognito Earth Kingdom greens for their attempt at a day of sightseeing as a ’normal family’. This was made rather difficult by their children. Izumi had already threatened to fry Iroh off of the face of the planet three times in the last hour, to which he’d responded with various threats of drowning in nearby puddles or ponds.

Mom hadn’t been feeling too well lately, which of course triggered an apocalyptic reaction from the Father Lord. He'd flung himself onto their bed babbling about how he couldn't raise their children without her before she'd flicked him and said she just had a cold. But she was feeling better today, so Dad let go of his impending single fatherhood and insisted they go out into the city and explore. The Father Lord paused in his place, leaning into Mom’s ear from behind her. “A-are we there yet? Where are we? Zuko, what are you doing?” Mom quipped, leaning back and into his chest. 

“He's about to push you off a cliff, Ma. Run!” Iroh warned as Izumi kept chasing him in circles around their parents. 

“Don’t tell her that! Mom, the Father Lord’s not about to push you off a cliff. I’m gonna beat some sense into you when I catch you!” Izumi threatened as Iroh squealed. 

“And… open your eyes,” the Father Lord commanded as he removed his palms from her eyes. Wrapping his arms around her, he leaned in to see the expression on her face.

Katara's eyes grew to the size of teacups and her mouth dropped in awe. She gazed at a shining new statue of herself and Zuko wielding their elements in the middle of a fountain. 

“Zuko, you… you made a statue of us?” Mom sputtered in disbelief as she took in her surroundings, “but the transit station statue was supposed to be just you.”

“I thought it was wrong you didn’t have a statue in Republic City yet. Sokka, Aang, and Toph all had them. But you’re just as much of a founder, you played just as big of a role as any of us. Ever since it was still Cranefish Town, you’ve been so dedicated to improving this place. You wrote all of that boring governing legislation and single-handedly created the public health infrastructure. Your work here has helped so many people. So I made sure you had a statue that said so,” Dad explained with a wide grin and absolute adoration in his eyes. As far as Izumi knew, this was what love was.

She was silent for a few moments before turning around to face him with a blinding smile. “Zuko, this is the most narcissistic thing I’ve ever seen. I love it,” Mom cried with a soft laugh.

“I also figured statue Me would be lonely without the love of his life. Plus, it’s much prettier to look at now,” the Father Lord argued as he swept Mom into his arms and kissed her. Iroh and Izumi groaned and covered their eyes, lamenting their parents' insistence on being absolutely disgusting in public. Passerbys ignored their family in the crowded courtyard and Iroh eventually tugged on their mother’s robes to get them to knock it off. With no avail, Iroh and Izumi settled on the bench in front of them and waited patiently for them to get sick of each other (which was very unlikely, unfortunately).

Mom tilted her head up to look at the Father Lord from within his arms. “Zuko, I have a surprise for you, too,” she said softly.

The Father Lord’s face flashed with surprise before he mirrored Mom’s smile with his own. “What would that be? Are you going to push me off of a cliff?”

“No, much better. I have a gift for you,” she announced, pulling him to sit down on the bench and sandwich their children on both sides, “for all of you.”

The Father Lord raised his eyebrow, causing the skin of his scar to distort slightly. “Well, I doubt it will be able to upstage sneaking around and getting a statue of you made, but do tell.”

Mom turned to face him with a coy grin, letting the suspense build. 

'What is it, Mom? Did you get me a polar bear dog?" Iroh asked before getting a smack from Izumi. 

Mom gave a soft laugh and stroked his cheek. “No, Iroh, honey. I’m pregnant. We’re having another baby,” she stated with unadulterated joy sinking into her voice and surrounding all of them. 

Izumi’s jaw dropped in shock. Iroh made a face and whispered to his sister, “Where are they gonna get a baby? When will we have to give it back?” She simply shushed him in favor of watching her father react to the news. Izumi figured that explained why Mom had been so sick lately. 

The Father Lord’s face was blanketed in shock and he couldn’t speak for a few moments. “Are you sure? You’re not kidding? This is real- a real baby?”

“Yes. We’re going to have a third kid-” Mom started before the Father Lord pulled her into another kiss, caressing the sides of her face. He pulled all of them into a tight hug, tears welling in his eyes. They stayed there for a moment, enjoying the warmth and closeness punctuated by Iroh’s squirming. 

In the midst of the bone-crushing hug, he reached out to hold Mom’s hands in his and gripped them tightly. “How is this possible? I thought that…”

“I did, too. But I guess the spirits thought otherwise,” Mom mused softly.

The Father Lord pulled Iroh onto his lap and ruffled Izumi’s hair. “Katara, I think you managed to upstage my statue,” he huffed with a tearful chuckle. 

***

No matter where Izumi went, she couldn’t escape her parents or remnants of the life she left behind. At least, it seemed that way as she stared up at the likenesses of the father and mother she’d run away from. This place had meant a lot to her parents, but they weren’t here now. Izumi was alone.

No Iroh to freeze her in the fountain and start a city-wide bending battle that would end with them passing out on each other, stuffed with all-you-can-eat noodles. No Kya to accidentally start an uprising amongst nursery-school children that would end up with everyone sitting in some pond somewhere. No Mom to braid her hair and inappropriately molest her father in front of their children. No Father Lord to, well, to drag her by her hair into council meetings and strip her of her freedom. Izumi couldn't just remember the good parts because that wasn't how it went down. She was here for a reason and there was no going back.

Picking herself up by her bootstraps (metaphorically, as Izumi's boots were actually strapless), she brushed the tears from her eyes with her sleeve and splashed some of the fountain’s water on her face. She wasn’t going to spend all day crying in front of a fountain for no damn reason when she had things to do. Setting off, she tried not to look back at the fountain. She failed, hurrying away from it even faster.

Making a sharp turn into a side street, Izumi scanned the various multicolored signs hanging over shops looking for somewhere to illegally unload her hairpiece. Remaining cautious, she poked her head in a couple of stores before darting out. She had to be absolutely sure because choosing wrong and getting arrested would land her right on Aunt Toph’s doorstep. Literally, the only thing Izumi had to do was stay out of trouble with the law. It couldn’t be too difficult, right?

It was as she though she was tempting the spirits with that thought because at that very moment she overheard something she couldn’t ignore. Turning around, Izumi was met with the sight of three burly men dressed in modern clothing styles of shades of blue and red towering over a young woman in green holding an infant. The woman’s posture was defensive and her fear was thinly veiled as the men inched closer to her.

“You’re gonna have to pay up, Ki-Jung. Or we won’t be able to guarantee your protection anymore,” the bigger man in blue, whom Izumi had taken to referring to as Dumbass 1, snarled with no intention of hiding the malice in his voice.

“Yeah, it’d be a shame if something happened to your store. We wouldn’t want that, would we?” the one in red rasped (Dumbass 2), igniting a small fire in his palm that danced across his fingertips. 

Ki-Jung looked like she was about to burst into tears. “I-i’m sorry. I don’t- I don't have the money. Please, I can give it to you next week. I just need more time,” she pleaded with wide eyes. Izumi inched closer from behind the pillar that concealed her from their view 

“Cute baby you have there. It’s too bad you can’t pay for its protection anymore,” the other man in blue, who from then on was known as Dumbass 3, leered as he uncorked a waterskin. Biting her lip, Izumi grimaced as the woman cowered in fear. She had a feeling this wasn’t going to end well, but couldn’t turn her back on the situation. She had to help. Izumi couldn't turn her back on someone who needed her. 

Stepping out into the open, she faced these Agni-damned bullies, determined to teach them a lesson about abusing their bending. “Hey, why don’t you pick on someone your own size?!?” Izumi bellowed.

The waterbender’s eyes widened in shock and then narrowed in contempt as he faced her. Forgetting the woman and her baby behind them, the trio came to face Izumi. “Look, girl. I can see you’re fresh off the boat, so I’m going to let that one slide. But that’s not how we do things around here, so you’d best mind your own damn business before you get into trouble,” the Dumbass 1 warned, drawing a large club. Uncle Sokka used one like it sometimes, but this design was different, likely from the Northern Tribe instead of the South. 

“Never! You assholes better stop bullying that poor woman before I make you sorry,” Izumi yelled, standing her ground as they advanced. They weren’t backing down, and the chances of this being resolved without violence were dropping by the second. 

“Too bad. It’ll be such a waste to ruin such a pretty face,” Dumbass 2 leered as he punched a solid ball of flame towards Izumi, which she easily dissipated with a wide swipe of her arms and her own bending. If there was anything that Izumi had learned to hate from her time in politics, it was middle-aged men in positions of power being fucking creeps.

“Water Tribe girl can firebend. Wasn’t expecting that. What an interesting challenge,” Dumbass 3 smirked, drawing the water out of his waterskin into a whip. At the same time, Dumbass 1 drew a large sword and started to surround her. _Oh, fucking shit._ She widened her stance, brought her arms up defensively, and committed. 

“I knew only dishonorable, nasty losers bully nonbenders with their bending but ganging up three-on-one? Absolute jagweeds!” Izumi exclaimed, provoking Dumbass 2 and 3 to charge at the same time hurling blasts of fire and water. 

Izumi sent up defensive flares of flames, reducing their attacks to wisps of steam. As Dumbass 2 threw a flaming punch at her, she sidestepped and ducked, leading his fist right into his colleague’s head. Dumbass 3’s collar caught on fire and he started to yell before Izumi rolled away from Dumbass 1’s sword, righting herself in time to kick up Dumbass 3’s legs from under him. He landed with a loud thud in a puddle, extinguishing his now-charred dirt and bringing Izumi into the mud with him. She grunted at the hard landing that would surely leave bruises staining her skin.

Dumbass 2 was a more skilled firebender than Dumbass 3 could manage with waterbending, but Izumi could take him. He was powerful, but his stances were sloppy and his root could be easily broken. Dumbass 3 waterbended with a stiffness no master would stand for and was barely in control. An easy target. Dumbass 1 had good control over his sword, but it was a big, bulky thing that slowed him down even more than his own large build. Izumi and Dumbass two started to grapple, with him getting a couple of good hits in that stung like hell. Before he could get up and return to the fight, Izumi elbowed him in the face, hearing a crunch and cry that most likely indicated a broken nose. 

These shitheads had no idea who they were picking a fight with. Over a decade of combat training made Izumi a formidable foe, despite her size disadvantage here.

“I’m going to make you wish you’d never set foot in our territory!” Dumbass 1 howled. As he charged swinging his sword, Izumi wrapped a whip of flames around his ankle, setting his pants on fire and causing him to lose his balance and fall on top of Dumbass 3 in a heap with a loud grunt. Springing up, she wobbled from the impact of the fall, and scrapes on her arm had started to bleed. 

Having thinned the herd, this was finally a fair fight between her and Dumbass 2. Firebender against firebender. Her against the Father Lord, just like all the sparring Izumi had done her entire life. As his friend laid groaning in a heap, Dumbass 2 sent a flaming kick at Izumi’s head, which she had to drop back to the ground fast to avoid being hit by. It was a dirty move, sending fire her way when her back was turned, but her father’s words from Ember Island rang out clear in her head.

“ _I’m simply preparing you for all possible situations, Zumi. You never know when your opponent will fight dirty and you’ll have to get resourceful,_ ” he had advised. This was as good a time as any to listen to him. On the ground, Izumi rolled as he punched a fireball to char the ground where her head had just been. Scrambling up, she sent some defensive blasts at the flames he was aiming at her.

Surveying her surroundings, Izumi panted hard. She’d taken a few hits and Dumbass 2 was still in good shape. He had the advantage where they were fighting, so Izumi would have to outsmart him. Bounding towards a store on the other side of the street, Dumbass 2 pursued her with waves of fire. “You’re not getting away from me,” Dumbass 2 shouted.

Swinging around to meet his flames with her own, Izumi grabbed a clay pot off of the display and charged him. Not expecting such a physical attack from another bender, Dumbass 2 was completely unprepared for the pot crashing over his head. He collapsed in a pile amongst the shards. Much to Izumi’s relief, he stayed down, but she saw Dumbass 1 stumble back upright out of the corner of her eye.

Oh fuck, these morons just didn’t know when to quit. Standing her ground, Izumi dug her feet into the ground and prepared to beat the shit out of him again. All of the guys were at least twice her size, but she was a lot faster. Unfortunately, she’d gotten to the point where she was too tired to keep dodging and running, so it was time for her face him in hand-to-hand combat. Dumbass 1 brought his sword in a swinging motion that she wasn’t expecting, slamming the hilt into her cheek and nose. Folding to her knees from pain, Izumi gazed up at Dumbass 1 looming over her.

“You gave a harder fight than any of us expected, little girl. But it doesn’t matter now,” he said, raising his sword over her head. 

While Izumi normally stuck to her honor code of not using bending against non-benders in combat, desperate times called for desperate measures. Inhaling deeply, Izumi sent twin streams of dragon’s breath through her nostrils, setting all of Dumbass 1’s clothes alight. As he dropped to the ground rolling in order to extinguish the flames, Izumi stumbled to her feet. In the distance, she saw glints of light reflected off of-oh, Agni, no! The metalbenders were here. 

Less than a day in the city and she had already gotten herself into trouble. How did Izumi get herself into these situations?

“Hey, you! Stop! You’re under arrest!” the officers boomed as Izumi swung her rucksack over her shoulder and bolted with shaky legs.

Reinforcements started to handcuff and book the dumbasses, but a swarm of police followed after her. As the telltale scraping clang of wires near the ground near her, Izumi started to dodge and weave, occasionally sending blasts of fire behind her with powerful kicks. 

Sweaty profusely and barely able to breathe, Izumi knew she wasn’t going to last long being pursued without some serious quick thinking. She didn't get a chance to do any of said quick thinking. Turning a corner, Izumi felt hands grab her and pull her sideways and collapsed into them. With a thud, she hit the ground and felt herself dragged behind a dumpster.

“What-? Get off of me!” she commanded, starting a fight. Someone- not the guy grabbing her- threw a blanket over her and pressed her into the wall, enclosing her in with their own warm body. Fighting her entrapment, Izumi was shushed by a female voice. “Shut up and stop fighting. They’ll be here any second and you’ll get yourself caught!” the mystery girl hissed.

Hearing the zipping sound of wires and heavy feet, Izumi quieted for a second. Loud rustling and shouts followed, but no one found her or came close to the dumpster they were hiding behind. 

“Is the coast clear?” a male voice, the really big dude who had grabbed Izumi, asked.

Some of the weight shifted, and the female voice replied, “Yeah, they’re gone. Get off of her before you crush her, you lugnut.”

The weight disappeared off of Izumi and she bolted to her feet, tearing at the now-bloodstained blanket that had been thrown over her head. Attempting to run, Izumi found herself wobbling and vision growing fuzzy as she failed to escape. Slumping to the ground, the last things Izumi saw before she being engulfed in heavy darkness were intense green and blue eyes staring back at her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another chapter! i am at it again with the parallels and oh boy this is getting fun. please enjoy! i honestly live for the comments on this shit, you guys are amazing!
> 
> i am (sort of) on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/meekothetrashpanda) and am always open to constructive criticism or suggestions!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i just edited some of it runs in the family and i would like to sincerely apologize to anyone who read that because it turns out I CAN'T READ.  
> anywhos new chapter! sorry it is incredibly late i am also disappointed in myself. this literally took 3 weeks to write, is twice as long as it was supposed to be, and was the bane of my existence for the entire time. that flashback scene shortened by life by decades.

The first thing Izumi became aware of as her consciousness began to flood back was the smell. Nostalgic, hearty, and salty. Izumi was taken back to snow-filled days of wonder at the South Pole from when she was younger, all of which ended with this same smell wafting from the kitchen. Five Flavor Soup, in all of its wonderful glory, was enveloping her in its scent like a warm parka-clad hug. Exhaling softly, the events leading up to her passing out caught up with Izumi the way a train catches up with someone in its tracks.

Oh shit! She’d gone down, hard. The memories of sweat and blood and dirt and pain seared through Izumi’s mind like molten lava. Where was she now? Had the police found her? No, this didn’t seem like a prison cell and there was no Aunt Toph ripping her a new one. So who had taken Izumi? Oh god, what kind of captors made Five Flavor Soup? What if they used the soup against her as some sadistic interrogation technique?

Izumi tried to move, to run, to do something, but every muscle in her body screamed with protest until she collapsed back into a-couch? Why was she on a couch? Where was she? Peeping one eye open, Izumi’s vision was mostly out of focus, but she was propped amongst pillows and a- Momo printed sheet? Why was she wrapped up in a cocoon of Momo sheets?

What kind of kidnappers would put her on a couch with Momo sheets? And she wasn’t in her clothes anymore as the new pajamas she wore were mint green. Oh Agni, someone had changed her clothes and probably seen her naked! Izumi had already had enough sexual humiliation via her father recently; she wasn’t sure she’d survive anymore. 

As her other senses started to work, she started hearing the same voices that had grabbed and sat on her behind the dumpster having a low conversation. Izumi could only catch pieces, which only confused her more.

“Why isn’t she waking up?” the female voice asked with a worried tone.

“She took a crazy beating. It might take a while longer, Mirs,” the male voice responded.

“I don’t understand why you had to grab her. What if we get caught? What were you thinking?” the girl chirped.

“Are you kidding me? We had to! It’s not like we could leave her passed out behind a garbage can. You saw what she did to the Tried Three. I’ve never seen anyone stand up to those goons like that before,” the boy-man marveled. Although his voice was deep, he talked like Iroh whenever he learned a new waterbending form, basically an overgrown child. The girl didn’t sound much older than Izumi herself, but voices could be deceiving. 

The voices started to get louder, and Izumi realized too late they had come into range. “Wait, she’s moving. I think she’s listening to us,” the girl observed. Well, shit. Izumi had to give herself up. She probably could’ve gleaned some more information from them, but her hand had to twitch at the wrong moment. Damn it!

Opening her eyes, Izumi attempted to lunge at them and escape but landed hunched over on the ground in pain, the Momo sheets tangled around her legs. 

“Whoa there,” the deep man-child’s voice rumbled, “relax. You’re fine, stop freaking out.”

“Telling her to stop freaking out is just going to make her freak out more, you dumbass. That’d be like me throwing another rock at your head to help you after being hit in the head with a rock,” the feminine voice chastised.

“How-” the boy started before Izumi yelped.

“Where am I? Who are you? Why did you take me? They won’t pay my ransom, so don’t even try!” Izumi shouted, struggling against the vice grip the Momo blankets had on her.

“Oh shit, we freaked her out,” the boy-man, now crouching down, said as he came into view. His brown skin was a couple of shades lighter than Izumi’s with bright arctic blue eyes and short, cropped brown hair with a couple of longer beaded braids falling into his eyes. He was huge with defined muscles that Izumi felt as he lifted her from the ground by her armpits. Izumi started to scratch him with her nails, and he let out a very girly yelp before dropping her in an unceremonious heap back onto the floor.

“Y-ouch! She’s so jumpy!”

The girl, a smaller but still muscular frame next to the Water Tribe house-man whining over scratch marks, huffed. “Of course she’s gonna be freaked out, we kidnapped her! You’re a moron, you know that?” 

She leaned down to eye level with Izumi, who had finally untangled herself from the mess of Momo blanket. Izumi couldn’t quite catch a glimpse of her because the lamp behind them basked her in shadow. “Hi. My name is Mira. This is my boyfriend, Tarak. We saw you fighting with those gang hooligans on the street, and hid you from the police when they were searching for you. You’re in our apartment right now, and we have no intention of hurting you,” the girl-Mira- calmly explained. 

Izumi stopped fighting for a second. Taking in her surroundings, she realized that Mira was telling the truth, at least about the apartment. The small but cozily decorated living space was a flurry of blues and greens, leading off into various other rooms that were out of Izumi’s view. The juxtaposition of the decorations struck Izumi as odd, but decoration fell to the bottom of Izumi’s very long list of problems at the moment. Still, she couldn’t trust these strangers. “That’s exactly what someone wanting to chop me up and sell me for parts would say,” Izumi responded suspiciously with narrowed eyes. 

Tarak, which was what the man-boy-house next to her was apparently called, scrunched his wide nose and crouched to the ground while nursing his scratch marks. “You wouldn’t be worth very much,” he poked at her arm, “there’s no meat on your bones. You’re a stick. No one would pay good money for you.”

Mira facepalmed and Izumi cocked her head to the left. She’d always been scrawny and the boat ride had left her half-starved, so she figured he was right, if not a little blunt. Izumi liked blunt; it was why she and Aunt Toph got along famously. Her kidnappers sounded young, at least in their bickering and speech patterns, and genuine in what they were saying. She couldn’t see them very well in the dimmed lighting, but Izumi figured that if they were going to make steaks out of her or drown her, they would’ve already done so. Tarak even kind of reminded her of Iroh in a funny, dorky way, which was a pretty good voucher for Izumi. And they had supposedly saved her from a trip to Aunt Toph’s office. She supposed Mira and Tarak were good in her book for the moment. It’s not like she could run off of her own accord at the moment, anyway.

“Alright, I believe you. I have made the verdict you are not evil people-eaters. I’m sorry for trying to scratch your eyes out, Tarak, it was? I thought you were going to murder me,” Izumi apologized.

Tarak grinned. “Oh, it’s okay. I’m sorry for trying to haul you up like a bag of rice. Probably wasn’t my best idea,” he pondered as stood up and offered Izumi a hand.

‘What’s your name?” Mira probed as she and her boyfriend started to pull her onto her wobbly feet.

“Natsumi. But my friends call me Zumi. So I guess you guys can call me Zumi, for harboring me from the police. Not to mention: one of you, hopefully, Mira, saw me naked when you changed me into these pajamas.” 

The lie slipped out so easily that Izumi almost felt guilty. These people had done her a favor, hiding her from the police and letting her crash on their couch, which she was repaying with lies. But the lies were necessary.

“Yeah, Zumi. I dragged you over here and Mira took care of all the other stuff. You were pretty out of it from that fight,” Tarak volunteered.

Mira wrapped an arm around Izumi’s side, eliciting a wince, and helped her up. “Sorry, you’re still pretty beat up. But come here, sit down and we’ll talk,” Mira said as she and Tarak brought Izumi to a table in a dimly lit kitchen and set her down in a chair. 

Tarak settled into the chair on her right and Mira kicked the ground hard, sending a chair flying towards the left side of the table that she settled in.

In the light, Mira’s dark chestnut skin and pale green clothes were illuminated. When she turned to face Izumi, emerald green eyes framed by braided brown hair were locked on her. She was an earthbender, but looked about as Water Tribe as you could get. Mira was mixed nations, just like Izumi. “You’re an earthbender!” Izumi exclaimed. At her outburst, the lamp in the kitchen grew larger, bathing them all in more light.

Mira smiled and looked a little confused. “Yup, same as you being a firebender?”

“But you look Water Tribe, too. Are you mixed?” Izumi questioned. 

“Yeah. Why do you sound so surprised?”

“Oh. I-I’m sorry, I just haven’t met all that many mixed nations people before,” Izumi explained.

“Well, it’s pretty common here, so not really a big deal. But I guess it's different in other places, huh? I’m an earthbender like my Mom, but my Dad was Water Tribe. You look mixed, too. Steambaby?” Mira queried, rising from her chair and waltzing into the quaint kitchen.

“S-steambaby? What’s a steambaby?” Izumi asked, confused. Was this some new Republic City slang? Izumi was just excited to meet another mixed nations person, there weren’t all that many in the Fire Nation. Kenji and she were pretty much the only ones in school back home. 

“Huh, you really are new here, but I guess your clothes were fresh off the boat. A steambaby is someone with mixed Water Tribe and Fire Nation heritage. They’re the rarest, with the whole Southern Raiders and Siege of the North. You don't find many couples that can get along well enough to make steambabies. But there’s Earth and Water, like Mira, Mudbabies. Fire and Earth, the most common because of the colonies, are Lavababies,” Tarak clarified to a very puzzled Izumi. Mira got up from her seat and rustled around for three bowls, filling them up with soup and bringing them to the table.

“Eat up, you’ll need your strength back,” Mira commanded as she pushed a bowl in front of Izumi, who dug in immediately. She probably should’ve been more cautious about poisoning, but Izumi was too hungry to care at this point.

“Thanks, Mira! Agni, is this Five Flavor Soup? I haven’t had this in forever!” Izumi exclaimed excitedly, grabbing a rounded wooden spoon from off of the table. Tarak and Mira also started to dig into their servings with fervor.

“That’s what you call them here?” Izumi continued.

“Yeah. That’s what we call them here. What do they call them where you’re from? Where are you from? I’m guessing one of the Poles by your clothing,” Mira remarked, leaning back into her chair.

Oh shit. What should Izumi say? They were both clearly Water Tribe, and if one of them had been to the South recently they might know she was full of shit. But she didn’t know enough about the North from the few diplomatic trips she’d been on to lie. Oh well, she’d have to go with her best option. “I’m from the South Pole. I just got here yesterday,” Izumi answered, trying her best to not give herself up. 

“Really? Then why haven’t you eaten Five Flavor Soup in so long? My Dad was from the South Pole and he said they eat it all the time there,” Mira wondered as Izumi mentally kicked herself. 

“Oh, my, uh, Dad didn’t like the soup. So we never got to eat it back home,” Izumi backtracked, taking solace in the fact that she wasn’t lying completely. Her Dad didn’t have to stomach for most Water Tribe food, something Uncle Sokka teased him to no end about. But they didn’t eat much of it in the Fire Nation solely because the ingredients were hard to transport. 

Mira and Tarak exchanged a look but didn’t say anything.

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Mira replied with a subtle caution. Izumi was going to have to be more careful with the earthbender. She was sharp and would likely find Izumi out if she wasn’t careful. The calculating (but not malicious) look that was present in her eyes reminded Izumi of Kya. She tried to stop thinking about her little sister, as it only made her sad. It was, of course, Tarak who broke the heavy silence after that.

“Well, I’m from the Northern Tribe. Got here a little over a year ago. That must’ve been rough, growing up in the South as a firebender. I understand why you came here. The culture shock got to me too, at first, but you’ll get used to it,” Tarak assured, eating another spoonful of soup. Izumi felt guilty for lying to them but continued to eat her feelings. Perhaps she could drown her remorse in soup.

Tarak finished the last of his soup with a loud slurp and returned into the cramped kitchen for seconds. A small rock hit him in the ass, causing him to yelp.

“Don’t finish all of it, you big old polar bear dog. Save some for Kallista.”

“Who’s Kallista?” Izumi quipped.

Mira smiled, the suspicion in her eyes replaced by their usual warmth. “My kid sister. She’s at a friend’s house tonight, but she loves eating soup for breakfast.” Izumi felt her chest tighten, knowing she used to talk about her own little sister with the same love worn on her sleeve. Holy fuck, she missed Kya. Trying to lighten the weight of her past, Izumi nodded and tried to engage in conversation. 

“That explains the Momo pattern blankets, which I’m assuming are hers.”

Tarak cleared his throat from the kitchen as the apples of his cheeks started to don a distinctly pink tint on top of their usual brown. “Actually, that blanket’s mine,” he mumbled as Mira shook with raucous laughter, banging a fist on the table. 

Mira took a second to compose herself, dramatically wiping tears of laughter out of the upturned corners of her eyes. “But yeah, Zumi. You fought really hard out there,” she commented, pushing her braids to her back from where they had flipped forward while she laughed so they wouldn’t fall into her soup. 

“Ugh, my aching everything is reminder enough. I got my ass handed to me,” Izumi groaned as she rubbed her temples, slinking into her seat at the memory of her epic failure.

Tarak, sitting back down at the table with another full bowl of soup, scoffed. “It was three-against-one and I’ve never seen anyone fight like you, let alone go up against the Tried Trio like that in my entire life. Everyone’s too scared of the gangs here,” Tarak said between spoonfuls of soup shoveled into his mouth.

“Is the women those dumbasses were harassing alright?” Izumi asked.

“No one got hurt, but it riled up the criminal underworld here like crazy,” Mira replied.

“Oh, shit. Why don’t the police do something about it? Isn’t that their job?” Izumi had worshipped the ground Aunt Toph walked on her entire life, so why wasn’t she cracking down on these hooligans? Izumi groaned as she finished the last of her soup, absolutely stuffed. She was slightly impressed by Tarak’s ability to pack the hearty stuff down, a trait he shared with Iroh. A pang of homesickness hit Izumi, but she suppressed it.

“Yeah, like they could even if they wanted to. The big players in the triads are untouchable. And there’s probably a hit out on you now, so you’re gonna have to lay low for a while until the hit out on you gets old,” Mira confirmed with a nod. 

“Ughghghghh. Of course, there’s a hit out on me,” Izumi lamented, massaging her temples, “why wouldn’t there be a hit out on me?” She’d have to lay low to stay off of Aunt Toph’s radar anyway, but the irony of this situation wasn’t lost on Izumi. Of course, she’d accidentally get on a powerful gang’s hitlist on her first day of attempting to be invisible. 

“It’s fine, they probably didn’t get that good of a look at your face, which, by the way, is pretty bruised up right now,” Tarak commented as he finished the last of his soup, bending the last few drops out of the red clay bowl and into his mouth with a swift motion of his wrist.

“You’re a waterbender?” Izumi gasped. It was strange to see an earthbender and waterbender so casually coexisting, as there weren't many examples other than Izumi's parents back home. But then again, a lot of things about Tarak and Mira's relationship seemed strange to Izumi, especially compared to what her parents had.

Of course Tarak was a waterbender. Great, another reminder of home to deal with. But she had to admit, it would be nice to have another waterbender around again. Izumi missed the convenience of a clean-up slave for spills around in the form of her little brother. No, it wasn’t even that. She missed her goofy, idiotic, 11-year-old brother. Tarak almost reminded her of him, but in a good way. 

‘Yeah, Mira and I are probenders. We fight for a living,” Tarak explained.

“What’s probending?” 

“Wow, you’ve really been living under an iceberg. It’s a waterbender, earthbender, and firebender going up against another team with the same makeup and working together to beat the shit out of them. Matches are grueling, but the pay’s great if you’re good at it. Tarak and I got pretty far last year, but our firebender bailed on us,” Mira started.

Izumi perked up. “I’m a firebender, and a pretty good one. I could, uh, fill in,” she offered hopefully. Izumi liked Mira and Tarak a lot, despite having known them for less than an hour (more if you counted the time she was knocked out). They were brash and loud in a real, funny way that didn’t last long in the Fire Nation Royal Court. They didn’t know who she was or what she’d done. This was Izumi’s chance to start over, leave her past behind, and start building a future, all at once. 

“Really? You’d do that? I mean, you’re, like, the best firebender I’ve ever seen. We’d love to have you on the team!” Tarak’s rambled as his eyes lit up, reminding Izumi of Iroh’s whenever the dessert tables were left unattended at official functions where Mom and the Father Lord wouldn’t yell at him in public. 

Izumi blushed, not used to hearing her bending so openly praised. The Father Lord had always been very strict and methodical in her training, with praise bestowed very carefully and never outside of lessons. She figured it had something to do with Aunt Azula and not wanting to pit Izumi against her siblings, which was probably wise. But sometimes she just wanted to be told she was a genius for using her bending to create a delicious sugary film on her custard tarts at the dinner table.

“You can live with us. Here. In our spare room. And we’ll all split the winnings equally, it’ll be really great, we promise,” Tarak rambled as his pitch reached higher with excitement flooding into his voice.

Izumi’s eyes widened. A place to stay, a job, friends, and a chance to practice her bending all in one offer? It was more than she could’ve hoped for!

She lurched forward in her chair, slamming her hands on the table, and exclaimed "Yeah, I’m in!” before doubling over in pain from her injuries. 

Mira and Tarak whooped and high-fived with rhythmic synchronicity only two people who had been in love for a while had. It reminded Izumi of the way her parents moved, almost circling each other in an eternal dance of give and take. Maybe they weren't as different from her parents as she thought...

Then Tarak turned to her, showcasing his bright and huge grin to offer, “I can heal you, if you’d like, Zumi. I didn't when you were knocked out, 'cuz that would've been a huge invasion of your privacy, but I can now. ” 

Izumi felt her entire body and soul tense as the man-boy pulled a full waterskin from his waist and held it out to her with earnest ease. His posture remained tall but relaxed to accept more flow and change, something that reminded Izumi of her mother and the gentle cautiousness the nature of healing perpetuated. 

“No! Uh, I mean, uh, thank you very much for the offer. But I-I’m going to pass. I appreciate it, but no,” Izumi stumbled out as Tarak and Mira’s faces pinched with shared confusion. 

Tarak cocked his head to the right and tried again. “Are you sure? It’s no big deal at all.”

Izumi gave a sad smile as this house-man-boy with the huge frame and gentle healing hands and face sat in front of her. “I’m sure. I've been healed before, and I know what I’m missing,” she assured softly. Izumi was well aware of how intimate healing was; it had been a love language in and of itself for her and her mother growing up. It wasn’t something she was ready to share with someone else.

“Alright, suit yourself. Tarak and I are going to head to bed now. It’s pretty late. You can sleep in Tarak’s old room, but don’t worry, he hasn’t used it in months,” Mira announced with a playful wiggle of her eyebrows.

Tarak flushed a violent red as he gathered everyone’s bowls and deposited them in a blue-tiled mosaic sink. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Oh, and make sure to grab the Momo blanket! It gets cold at night here," Tarak warned, “and I’m totally not attached to it and am completely fine with giving it up.”

Mira smirked and ruffled his hair as he leaned down to pat her head, causing her to shoot him a playful scowl.

They were a strange couple that constantly bickered, but seemed to genuinely like each other. Izumi had grown up with a fairytale love story with a happily-ever-after right before her eyes, so it was interesting to observe a real-life couple like this. The best way Izumi could explain it was that her Mom and the Father Lord were like a dormant volcano, lovey-dovey except for explosive fights very rarely. But the lava always stopped flowing and eventually cooled, leaving their bond stronger than before.

Mira and Tarak, in all of their arm-punching and teasing, seemed to be an active volcano. Lava was always flowing, but not enough to hurt anyone or destroy anything. It seemed to work for them. Izumi wondered if real people were like this. Or maybe Mira and Tarak were an exception to a universal rule regarding love, just like her parents? She’d never felt anything that looked like this for Kanta, but maybe it was hard to identify from within? And he hated her guts now, knowing the truth and being caught by the fucking Fire Lord. In any case, it was making Izumi’s head hurt, so she gave up trying to decipher the mystery of love for the night.

Izumi gave a slow nod as she rose from her chair, careful not to jostle any of her still-healing injuries. Mira headed into a dark room on the right and turned on a light. After a brief pit stop to retrieve the aforementioned Momo blanket that Izumi had become overly attached to (not that she would admit it), she followed Mira. It was a quaint room, large enough for a young child to comfortably fit, but not two young women. Tarak squeezed his house-man body, giving the little space the feeling of an igloo stuffed with a big polar bear dog sticking out. The faded dark blue sheets and furs on the walls screamed ‘Water Tribe’, but Izumi had no complaints. She’d spent enough time around red and Fire Nation decorum for a lifetime, and the room reminded her of _home_ , of Grandpa Hakoda and Uncle Sokka and the South Pole.

“Thank you, for feeding me and being so generous. You really didn’t have to… And I, uh, appreciate it. A lot,” Izumi vocalized as she turned to face them.

Tarak’s face lit up. “Not, thank you. It’s the least we could do after everything you did. And now you’re saving our asses with probending,” he responded, wrapping an arm around Mira’s waist. 

Mira gave a cautious smile and nudged Tarak out of the room. “Yeah. We’ll leave you to sleep it off. Good night, Zumi.” 

“Night,” she called as the door closed. Extinguishing the small lamp with her bending, Izumi practically flung herself into the bed amongst the warm sheets, snuggled in the Momo blanket. The physical exhaustion set in quickly as soon as she laid down. The toll of her eventful first day in Republic City weighed her down into sleep. 

But she couldn’t escape her past; it followed her even into unconsciousness.

***

Izumi had always been closer to the Father Lord than her mother, it was just one of the facts of life. As far back as she could remember, she just gravitated more towards Zuko than Katara. Izumi took after the Father Lord in almost every way except for looks, the only real quality she shared with her mother. They just understood each other. Iroh had corrected the scales when he was born with the opposite inclination, and then Kya had preserved the balance by declaring Druk her role model and starting a campaign against favoritism.

But before Iroh had been born, Izumi just didn’t have the connection with her mother that Katara had longed for. She didn’t know why, but she just didn’t relate with her daughter the way Zuko could. Yes, they loved each other the way they were supposed to. But Izumi would run into her father’s arms instead of her mother’s almost every time if given the option. The only thing that really bridged the gap between them was healing. Cuts and scrapes magically disappeared under Katara’s gentle touch, accompanied by kisses and hugs and a maternal bond that was hard to have with Izumi otherwise. 

Healing was Izumi was her mother’s way to connect and it was painful to think about it. Let alone allow a stranger to partake in such an intimate activity that had such an impact on her formative years. So it was no surprise to Izumi that she dreamed of her mother and healing and childhood amongst ice and snow.

***

Izumi squirmed in Grandpa Hakoda’s arms as she attempted to worm her way out of his parka and fur-clad grip and into the fluffy snow at her feet. “Lemme out, I wan’ go play,” she protested.

“Oh boy, you’re a jumpy little one, aren’t you?” he chuckled as Malina swooped in and grabbed her for a turn to cuddle. 

Her grandfather chuckled and Malina gave her a peck on the cheek before gently setting her into the snow, boots-first. Katara pursed her lips and opened her mouth to protest, but was overruled by a reassuring pat from the Father Lord. 

Izumi toddled in the snow, struggling to make her way through the packed powdery substance that sunk with every step she took. Upon seeing this, Katara cleared out a small path for her daughter with a quick swish of her wrists.

“What if she gets too cold? I should get her another parka-” Katara started before Hakoda started to chuckle.

“She already has two, Katara. She’ll be fine, kids that age are practically indestructible. Let her play,” he advised with a genuine smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“It’ll be good for her to play with kids her own age,” Malina suggested as they all turned towards Izumi, who had finally made her way to the other children playing in the snow. Judging by the snowballs being exchanged aerially, they all figured she’d been accepted into the group. 

Katara hesitantly followed her father and Malina back to their seats at the banquet table, but only at Zuko’s insistence. “She’s a firebender, Kat. She’s not going to freeze to death from a few minutes playing in the snow.” 

He wrapped his arms around her and she sighed into his warmth radiating through the thick fabric of his parka, similar to his wife and daughter’s, but in a shade of maroon. This was a diplomatic summit, after all, and appearances had to be kept up. The hood was pulled up, but loose black hair- the same color as Izumi’s- spilled out from his topknot in strands framing his face. She brushed some of them away with her fingers and returned the shy smile he’d been sporting. 

“What if she gets lost? And wanders around lost for hours before falling into a hole and being eaten by a wild polar bear dog!” Katara worried while biting her bottom lip, but was only met with hearty laughter from Hakoda, who promptly excused himself and Malina for a conversation with the Northern Chieftess across the room.

“Katara, I know she takes after me, but she’s not quite dumb enough for that. Just relax, she’s not going to be able to wander out of an International Relations banquet,” Zuko announced as a mitten-clad hand clapped his shoulder, startling him.

“Hey, little sister. Husband of little sister,” Sokka greeted with a smart-ass smile. Katara rolled her eyes and pulled him into a hug with a small tug to his wolf tail. 

“Suki, how have you been?” Zuko asked as he stood up to address her, being pulled into an embrace by his (kind of) sister-in-law. Without the Kyoshi Warrior makeup on, she looked a lot younger than usual and was stuffed into a thick, fur-lined blue parka identical to the one Sokka was wearing. She must've been off-duty at the moment; she was lucky.

“Fine, of course, Zuko. Other than your brother over there almost getting us killed with his, uh, whacky _proposal stunt_ ,” she replied warmly, shifting her collar down to reveal a carved stone on a strip of green felt. 

“What? Oh, my! _Spirits!_ Sokka, why didn’t you lead with that? Suki, we’re gonna be sisters!” Katara exclaimed as she pushed Sokka aside to practically tackle Suki in a polar-bear dog hug. 

Sokka pouted at his sister's chiding, but Zuko merely helped him up from the snow while the girls continued to hug and jump up and down in celebration. “Congrats, man. Took you long enough. I thought the two of you were just going to live out the rest of your lives in sin.”

Sokka gave a shit-eating grin and defended himself. “Hey, man. I wanted it to be perfect. Even if I couldn’t account for that nest of scorpion bees, there was a lot of scheming that went into that proposal, brother.”

“Suki can call me her brother. You, on the other hand, are a brother-in-law, Sokka.”

Sokka looped the crook of his elbow around Zuko’s neck and got him in a play-chokehold. “I know you don’t mean that, Mr. Father Lord. I’m your daughter’s uncle, which is an unbreakable bond of brotherhood!” 

“I'm still mad at you about that nickname. Zumi won't call me Dad anymore."

Sokka chuckled heartily and slapped his palm onto the table. "What can I say? Toph and I created a gift that just keeps on giving."

"Sure, like you should be saying anything right now, after it took you fourteen years to get the balls up to ask Suki to marry you,” Zuko shot back, gesturing a finger towards the heap of giggling grown women now sauntering around with interlocked arms. Sokka gazed over at them, a similar look of affection to Zuko’s crossing his face. 

“I’ll have you know that it was mutually agreed upon to not rush that. But yeah, how did a couple of idiots like us get so lucky?” Sokka pondered softly, releasing Zuko from his chokehold. 

“Who knows? All of us, Aang included. Speaking of, where are he and Toph? I haven’t heard any crashing, so their little hellion can't be here,” Zuko remarked.

“Toph’s too pregnant to make it. Gonna pop any day now, last I saw before Suki and I left. She’s got Aang running around as Super Dad and rubbing her feet as revenge for knocking her up again,” Sokka explained with a glance at Zuko and a shared grin. Huh, the whole gang would probably have to stop by Republic City to see the new baby on the way home from the North Pole.

“Agni, poor guy. I can’t wait until you join the fatherhood cult, Sokka. It’s going to kick your ass,” Zuko chuckled heartily.

“Ho, ho, ho. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I just got the nuts to propose, there’s no rush for kids either. At least, for me. How are things going with you and Kat’s efforts for sibling mayhem?”

Zuko bit his lip and frowned, slouching deeper into his seat at the reminder of that shittiness. “Uh, not so well, actually. Not as easy the second time around when we’re not newlyweds drunk off our asses.”

“Shit, man. I’m so sorry. I’m sure it’ll happen, even if it takes a while. How’s she taking it?” Sokka grimaced while taking a big swig of the sake at the table. He offered some to Zuko, who politely declined. He was technically still at work. Then again, he was never truly off duty as Fire Lord.

“Hard. Thinks it’s her fault, even though it’s no one’s fault. But we’re dealing with it. And we already have a little troublemaker to tuck in every night and hug extra tight when it gets to us, so it’s okay,” Zuko sighed with a small smile.

Katara and Suki drifted over, still embracing with a nonchalance more than a decade of knowing each other had cultivated. “Hiya, boys? What’s goin’ on?” Suki drawled, holding out a cup half-filled with a clear liquid that was almost certainly not water. Katara nursed a similar drink, but hers hadn’t been drained like Suki’s, resulting in her ability to look sheepish at Suki’s loud announcement. 

Zuko and Sokka both broke out unabashed grins at the sight of their very tipsy wife and fiancee, the heavy topics from before banished from their minds.

“Nothing much. Just Zuko trying to indoctrinate me into the kiddos club with weak arguments. Speaking of,” Sokka’s face lit up, “where is my absolute favorite niece until you and my sister make another mini version of yourselves?”

“Uh, she should be around here somewhere. She went off to play snowballs with some other kids a little while ago,” Zuko recounted, glancing around the room for Izumi. 

Katara set her cup on the table with a soft thud as the carefree smile vanished from her face, sobering to peer around the room for her daughter. 

“Z-Zuko… I don’t see her,” Katara enunciated cautiously as Sokka reached out to steady a slightly wobbling Suki while donning a more serious expression, despite being a little off-balance from his booze as well.

“I’m sure she’s here somewhere. It’s probably just a hiding game or something, Kat. C’mon, let's look for her,” her husband replied, sounding unsure himself as he rose to his feet and held out his hand to help Katara up.

Suki and Sokka heaved themselves onto their feet to join in the search before they split up to check all of the nooks and crannies of the banquet hall. Other than some bashful teenagers making out behind pillars of ice and people who couldn’t handle their drinks passed out in a corner, they found nothing. With no luck, Sokka and Suki checked the outdoor terraces while Katara and Zuko made their way through the hallways leading back to the diplomatic housing most of the visitors were staying in. 

“Maybe she got bored and went back to our room?” Katara suggested, unable to keep the worry from creeping into her voice. The chances that something had happened to Izumi as a heavily guarded diplomatic meeting in the North Pole were incredibly low, but they were a little paranoid. With the incident from the Summer Solstice festival still fresh on their minds, Katara and Zuko couldn’t help but assume the worse. 

“Yeah, maybe,” Zuko forced out, biting his dry bottom lip. 

The frost-covered halls of pale blue ice started to blend together and Katara was painfully aware of how easy it would be for a four-year-old to get confused and lost. The seemingly ‘far-fetched’ scenario where Izumi was eaten by a polar bear dog was starting to become more plausible, despite Zuko’s dismissal.

“Izumi? Izumi, hon. It’s Mom and Dad. Are you here?” Katara called out.

“Zumi?” Zuko echoed, suddenly whirling around to grip Katara’s wrist. “Look,” he breathed, gesturing at the barely noticeable drippings of blood, a stark crimson against the pigment-starved, blank ice. 

Their eyes widened as they turned to face each other in horror. “Izumi, sweetheart! Izumi?” Zuko projected with a hoarse, raspy tone.

Katara gripped his shoulder and leaned into him. “Shhhh. Listen,” she commanded, pointing forwards at a dimly lit corridor branching out from the hallway. 

The sound of soft, stifled sobs echoed, increasing in volume as they approached the corner. The dull thud of fur-lined boots was the only thing that betrayed them as they reached the new hallway whose flames flickered dull and on the verge of being extinguished. 

At the end of the hallway, curled up in a small ball underneath a table precisely cut from ice, crouched a small figure in a blue parka stained with red down the front.

“Izumi!” Zuko cried out, bounding over to the end of the hall and dropping down to the ground next to the table, reaching his arms out to pull their daughter out from under the table. Katara scanned the room for anyone nearby and hung back a little, figuring Izumi would want her father. She usually did, especially when she was distressed. 

Izumi wiped some running snot off of her chin with a small mitten and buried her face into her bloodstained parka, swatting her father’s hands away as she continued to sob with renewed intensity. 

“Are you hurt? What’s wrong? What happened?” Zuko babbled, perplexed by Izumi’s rejection of his embrace. She never turned down cuddles from the 'Father Lord', which she’d just started to refer to him as after their last visit to Republic City where she’d spent a little too much time with Toph and Sokka together. 

“G-go… Away,” the little girl managed to force out in a quivering voice between fits of crying. 

“Fireflake, tell us what’s wrong.”

“Leave,” Izumi hiccuped, her little chest heaving with effort, “I wan’ Mama.”

Zuko turned to share a look with Katara and raised his eyebrows, indicating for her to try. Katara stood dumbfounded for a moment. Izumi wanted her instead of Zuko? Perplexed, she moved her arms in familiar fluid motions, turning the table Izumi was hiding under into a small heap of snow next to her. 

Scooting beside her, Izumi makes no noises or moves of protest when Katara’s arms wrap gently around her, pulling her onto her mother’s lap. The blood of Izumi’s parka is still damp and transferred onto Katara’s, but she didn't care.

The quieting cries wracked Izumi’s body as Katara stroked her hair and rubbed circles on her back. Lifting Izumi up with her forearms to face her more easily, Katara whispered, “Zumi, can I see?”

Izumi lifted her head with meek hesitance, meeting her mother’s blue eyes with her own wide amber ones. Katara let out a small gasp while Zuko gripped her fingers tightly in his own.

Her daughter’s face was smeared in blood, faded and messy, with more leaking out of her nose as they sat there. Her nose and the areas around her eyes were swollen and red, almost surely the early signs of bruising. “‘M sorry, Mommy.”

“It’s okay, sweetie. It’s no big deal, I’ll heal it, okay?” 

Izumi nodded into her shoulder, spreading more blood onto Katara’s chest. “Zumi, who did this?” Zuko probed with exaggerated caution in his deep voice.

“I fell, Ma,” Izumi answered, continuing to ignore her father and wrapping her short arms around Katara’s neck, although they didn’t quite reach around.

She and Zuko breathed a collective sigh of relief that they’d been holding in since they saw the droplets of blood on the floor. Their baby- yes, she was still their baby, even though she already protested about how grown up she was- had a dumb little kid accident and was not the victim of an assassination attempt. Or eaten by a large polar carnivore. Katara silently thanked the Spirits.

“Okay, Zums. Let’s go back to our room and we’ll clean you up, alright?” Katara reassured as she pulled herself onto her feet, adjusting the bundled child in her arms. 

Zuko attempted to assist her, but she shook her head in a gentle refusal. “She’s okay, just needs a little space,” Katara informed him quietly, causing him to back off slightly. 

“You got a little lost, didn’t you, love? Trying to get back home?” Katara tutted softly, rocking her daughter from side-to-side as Zuko led them back to their room. 

Settled into a plush armchair covered in animal skins with Izumi on her lap, buried in the soft fur covering her chest, Katara muttered, “Thanks,” when Zuko handed her the waterskin filled with freshly boiled water courtesy of him. 

“Izumi, look at me, please,” Katara requested with a sympathetic, doting tone as she coated her palms in the sterile water, cooling it with her bending. Izumi had stopped crying save for the occasional hiccup after some snuggles but kept her head down. 

“No. Make Father Lord go,” the little one mumbled, sounding absolutely ridiculous due to her thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of her nose at Katara’s insistence.

Zuko opened his mouth to protest, but Katara waved her hand. “Just go, someone needs to let Suki and Sokka know we found her before they find a firebender to melt this place down to a puddle,” Katara pointed out.

Her husband still looked unsure, but Katara reassured him. “We'll be okay, it’s fine, Zuko.”

He pressed a kiss to Katara’s cheek and another to Izumi’s loose, tangled black locks with a soft whisper of, "Feel better, love," before heading out to inform the others what had happened.

At the sound of his footsteps ringing out and fading, Izumi poked her head up, exposing her blood-covered features to her mother. Katara brought gentle hands to touch Izumi’s face before she could change her mind and her daughter closed her eyes when the water started to glow a faint blue.

Izumi didn’t flinch away, but gave a content little sigh and tugged on one of her mother's braided strands of hair. The water stopped glowing as Katara used it to wipe some of the dried blood away from Izumi’s face and clothes before she bent new water out of the skin and started again. The silence between them was comfortable, but Katara’s curiosity got the better out of her. 

“Zumi, my little penguin seal. Why didn’t you want your dad here? You know he loves you more than anything, right?”

Izumi bit her lip and slouched lower into Katara’s lap. “Mama, what’s an ash-maker?”

Katara’s jaw hung open and the water coating the swollen red patch of Izumi’s forehead fell to the ground. “We don’t say that, sweetheart. Where did you hear that?”

Her daughter shifted uncomfortably, but Katara kept her gaze on the girl without faltering. “The kids said I was one, just like my dad. What’s it mean?” Izumi questioned gingerly.

Oh. So that was why she hadn't wanted Zuko around. 

“It’s a mean way to say firebender. You didn’t fall, did you, Zumi?” Katara realized in horror.

“I got froze to the ground, so I melted the ice. And then I got called an ash-maker and they tripped me and I fell and I tried to go to the room to clean up and I got lost,” Izumi babbled, “I’m sorry.”

Izumi tended to over-apologize, the same way her father did. Even when she wasn't at fault for something. Katara’s heart broke that some delinquent heathens would hurt her daughter, and pulled the mostly-healed girl into a tight embrace. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing,” Katara insisted.

“But you and the Father Lord were so mad!” Izumi cried, wiggling out of Katara's arms.

“No, we were worried. You gave us a big scare when we couldn’t find you. We were worried something bad happened to you. But we weren’t mad at you, Izumi.”

"Daddy looked really sad when I told him to go away. I didn't mean to make him sad."

"I know you didn't, sweetie. And it's okay, your father will get over it. He's just a little butthurt and worried," Katara explained to the doe-eyed child facing her.

A moment of silence passed as Katara began to heal Izumi’s remaining injuries with the last of her water. “Sorry for scaring you, Ma. And I’m sorry for hurting Daddy’s feelings. I didn’t want him to see me like this, but I know he’s _sensitive_ ,” Izumi whispered.

Katara let out a small laugh. “Yeah, I guess so…” The soft blue glow illuminating the room faded as the last of Izumi’s swollen mass of a face was soothed and she pressed a kiss to her newly healed nose. “Alright. Good as new. I love you, Izumi, don’t ever forget that,” Katara professed as she closed her eyes and pulled her daughter close to her chest, wrapping her arms around her little body tightly.

Izumi snuggled in closer to her mother's warm embrace and sighed contentedly, tears and fears long forgotten as she listened to the steady beat of Katara's heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also i was looking at my notes the other day and i have the whole plan for this fic written out, but everytime i mention zuko or katara i wrote dadko and momtara. like i don’t remember doing that but it's cute as hell so i'm not complaining.
> 
> i'm not even a huge fan of oc's, but the nature of this fic required them, so here u go? and i couldn't help but explore early probending, so that's super fun to play with!
> 
> i very carefully avoided doing ships and worldbuilding beyond the steambabies in it runs in the family, but i was forced to make a decision when it came to this fic. so i stuck with sukka and taang? it just felt right?  
> and i've seen a lot of fics where sokka and suki are depicted as the first couple to do everything (marriage, babies, etc.), but i was getting "fun aunt and uncle" that do everything way later than everyone else, so voila. plus taking 14 years to propose sounded hella sokka to me.
> 
> anyways sorry for the tidal wave of unnecessary info and thank you for reading!


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